


Can you see me?

by Foxberry



Series: See When You Get Here-verse companion pieces [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Funeral, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Panic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco discovers just where he is and what that means.</p><p>Marco's POV of a particular scene in Chapter 3 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2640533/chapters/5895095">See You When You Get Here</a>. Spoilers if you have not read past Chapter 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can you see me?

His breathing started heavy when the world came into focus, colours subdued by a veil of grey. He would have sworn it was raining if not for the sun. It’s brilliant gaze was bright but lacked warmth in the cold expanse of the morning. He could not feel the sunlight upon his chin, or his cheeks, or his hands. Gasping in surprise, no air filled his lungs. The motions followed rote, lips opening, chest rising, shoulders rising, but he could not feel them.

He found himself surrounded by figures in black, a mound of dirt on the grass before him, and none of the eyes he could see met his. He felt painfully hollow and absent despite his presence and, reaching out to grasp for their attention, he stared out confused while they continued to look right through him. The right arm he lifted up before him, outreached towards his audience, could not be seen with his own eyes. There was nothing there.

He focussed on moving his fingers like he was clawing at the air, but there were no fingers there to move. The grass within his view seemed to warp with the movements he swore he was making, like he was a figure made of glass and just as brittle. It was all for nought. The air moved the grass beneath his feet but it did not touch him. Blades of glass quivered violently as he struggled in desperation to claw out in the hopes of acknowledgement, chest rising and falling without the breath to fill it.

A sounds built itself up as his wide eyes darted between familiar faces. It exploded from his chest with a tone too hoarse and unnatural to be his own cry. “Hey!” No one stirred.

He spied his mother not far from him, weeping into a bouquet of jonquils, likely the ones from their front garden. She clutched them, white-knuckled in slender fingers, and crushed their stems as she held them to her chest, tears dripping down her cheeks to rest upon their petals.

“Mama!” He called first, confused and concerned, unsure if he might scare her, but her eyes stared out at something unseen in place of him. An invisible vice compressed his ribs.

Despite the feeling and effort of waving his arms, moving before her, nothing changed and he screamed once more, “Mama!” His cry morphed into a shrill. “Can you see me?”

Failing to garner her gaze, he turned to the boy by her feet. “Luca!” The boy’s frown remained, small lips pouted and eyes downcast to the ground. His sneakers rubbed into the grass, gently brushing against each other, and his hands grasped together like he fears what might happen if he didn't keep hold of himself.

“Luca!” A weak shout followed and hung empty in the air. Only he could hear the break in his voice, the sound of tears that would not fall. Not just now. “Can you hear me?” Taking a sweeping view of the crowd gathered in black, it was clear that no one could.

He tried to will his eyelids closed, blink away the vision before him, but the world did not turn black. The sunlight still hit the faces of the people around him and the more he looked, the more he realised Jean was not there. It hit him in the chest, a sudden impact to his sternum, pushing out air he couldn’t seem to breathe in. Of all the people he would have expected to be here, if he were to ever see this day, it would have been him. He paused in place for only as long as his panic would let him.

Running between them all he screamed their names, drawing up before them in the hopes the distance would improve his chances despite the confrontation of their painfully blank, forlorn expressions. “Sasha!” He laughed awkwardly, self-conscious and with panic in his voice, immediately regretting the way he treated their names. “I’m right here!”

Connie’s face was like stone beside her, resolute next to Sasha’s quivering lip. “Con, my man, come on, _please_.” The begging rolled off his tongue, spiraling to the ground, wasted. Every attempt he made through limb or voice was in vain.

“You guys don’t see me?!” His friends were more interested in the staring through him, through his own limbs that he could feel but couldn’t see. Not even raising them into the air, above where he felt his head was, seemed to help.

“Hey!” His voice cracked, sending its sound into a choked whisper. His breathing swallowed up any of hope of more sounds he could make, chest rising and falling on cue.

His face began to feel warm and tears caressed his cheeks, forming tickling lines on their way down his face. Droplets fell to the earth and the sky above seemed to open. A light pattering of rain darkened the soil. The sun still shone above him, light catching in the shower tumbling to the ground.

A tear hit his arm and left a splash of white specks upon his arm. Jerking his shoulders up and placing his arm in front of him, he rubbed at them, but they remained. Further tears fell to his skin and made trails down his neck. He tried to wipe them away with the tips of his fingers but thoughts of crippling loneliness overcame him and they continued despite his efforts.

His fingers began to turn white, finally possible for him to see. Bringing them close to his eyes, he saw they were made of thousands of tiny pieces of white glass, swirling and moving constantly in the semblance of the hand he could feel. They spread and grew over his hand like the feeling of hot tears on his face and made their way slowly and surely up his arm.

His breathing still heavy and the world around him silent despite the wind and the sunshower, Marco continued to cry. Through the blur of his tears, he stared, lost to the image before him and unseen by those around him. He collapsed to his knees in the wet of freshly turned soil, certain that no one would ever see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](http://foxberryblue.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue).


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